This post is explicitly directed at one Larry Wallberg (all ya’ll can read it, it just really applies to him). He has, with malice a-forethought, surrendered his Yankee heritage and absconded, carpetbaggeresque, to the South. In his honour, here are some rules he will need to live down south: Read the rest of this entry ?
Chappie has a fun bit of nonsense up on her blog: The Alphabet Meme. She got it via email but has transubstantiationated it (must come from being a chaplain, donchaknow) to a blog post and made it voluntary. If anyone else wants to play along, go for it. If not, you should be expecting an email of dead chipmunks within 30 days. Not that I would threaten anyone, of course. Just sayin’.
RULES:
Using the first letter of your last name, answer the questions listed below. You may do this in the comments on this thread, and/or on your blog. If you do it on your blog, leave a comment here. If you do it on your blog and want to tag ten people, go right ahead. If you want to play along, consider yourself tagged. Read the rest of this entry ?
Celebrating, of course, the 3rd Century Christian martyr (or martyrs) who, according to:
The Legenda Aurea of Jacobus de Voragine, compiled about 1260 and one of the most-read books of the High Middle Ages, gives sufficient details of the saints for each day of the liturgical year to inspire a homily on each occasion. The very brief vita of St Valentine has him refusing to deny Christ before the “Emperor Claudius” in the year 280. Before his head was cut off, this Valentine restored sight and hearing to the daughter of his jailer. Jacobus makes a play with the etymology of “Valentine”, “as containing valour”. (From Wikipedia)
or maybe not. Read the rest of this entry ?
Today, I began a new tradition. I began celebrating ground hog day. No, not the drag-the-poor-rodent-out-of-his-hole-in-the-middle-of-winter-and-shove-him-into-the-bright-television-lights version of ground hog day. Not the Bill Murray version either.
I fried up some pork sausage*, took it outside, and saw a shadow from the sausage. Which means, of course, a longer winter.
I then ate the sausage. And it was good.
*Well, pork sausage counts as ground hog (with seasonings), right?
(This has nothing to do with atheism, just remembering a time I almost god some poor sod killed.)
Many, many years ago (last century, in fact), I watched a young couple enter a building in which I work. Mom, dad, a two-and-a-half year old boy, and twin 6-month-old girls in a stroller. Cute family.
They walked over to me, mom pushing the stroller with one hand, hanging on to the toddler with the other, and balancing a large diaper bag over her shoulder. “Do you have changing tables in the lady’s room? And where is it?” Read the rest of this entry ?
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